


deep calleth unto deeper

by hallownest



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, akechi's multiple near death experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallownest/pseuds/hallownest
Summary: It’s the first time Loki tries to kill him.





	1. all the rage

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at @pharloom

“How are you holding up?” Morgana peers from under the covers, the darkness failing to dull his bright blue eyes. “You’ve redressed your shoulder today, haven’t you?”

“I have.” he nods. He reaches down to pet Morgana, scratching along his shoulder blades instead of going directly for his head; he tended not to like that, or at least pretended not to, as he’d since discovered. He leaves out the fact that Akira had helped him -- it was embarrassing, even now.

“Good,” Morgana answers briskly, allowing Goro’s touch for a moment longer before he wriggles out of the blanket, leaping onto the ground with a flourish. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. Don’t go messing your second chance up.”

Goro really doesn’t remember Morgana being this sharp-tongued, but he doesn’t mind. It’s better than being skirted around so his feelings can be spared. He’s in a fragile headspace, but being honestly spoken to isn’t enough to break him.

“Morgana?” Akira calls. Morgana immediately detracts his attention from Goro, running to peer down the stairs and scrambling out the way when Akira approaches the top, plates in tow. “You aren’t badgering him, are you?”

“What? No,” Morgana’s ears pin back in offense. “We’re just talking —“ His protest derails as Akira bends to sit a plate of sushi down for him. His eyes track its every movement until it reaches to floor, to which he then digs in without ceremony.

Akira watches him with thinly veiled amusement before turning to Goro. “This one’s for you.”

Morgana looks up from his plate, muzzle covered in shreds of fish. “Why didn’t you get ‘em sushi too? He probably gets tired of eating curry.” He asks, voice muffled by the food stuffed in his mouth.

“You’re not exactly cheap with how much of it you eat. Besides, I think he’d rather have something homemade than convenient store sushi.”

Goro only laughs. He reaches his arm out to meet him halfway, forgetting the condition of it a moment too late. 

“Shit.” He hisses lowly, immediately retracting his arm. Both Akira and Morgana look at him in alarm, Akira hastily sidestepping to set the plate on his work desk.

“Sorry, sorry,” Akira hurriedly apologized. In a different situation Goro would have told him it was his own fault, not Akira’s, but right now he’s too focused on the throbbing pain in his shoulder. “You don’t think anything reopened, did you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, desperately fighting the urge to clutch his shoulder. “I -- it’s just still sore, that’s all.”

“Alright,” Akira is reluctant to dismiss him, but hands him back the plate anyway. Goro has enough sense to not repeat his previous mistake and just wait until the plate is in his lap. “I need to take care of some errands for a bit, but Mona will be here to keep you company.”

“Doesn’t Morgana always go with you?”

Morgana and Akira look at Goro, then to each other, then back at Goro. 

“W-well, it’s already pretty late, so I don’t feel like going out today.” Morgana stammers.

Goro is sure this was arranged in advance. It’s either code for ‘I don’t want you alone in the state you’re in’ or ‘I don’t trust you enough to keep you by yourself’. Probably both. But it's fair, he supposes; he can’t complain. “Hm. Okay then.”

The two exchange another look with each other before Akira excuses himself. He’s now alone with Morgana, who stares at him for a moment,

“You didn’t believe any of that, did you?” Morgana sighs gloomily. 

“What?” Akechi’s eyes widen in faux innocence. “I don’t know what you’re referring to--”

“Why in the world do you still do that? Contrary to what you think, you’re a pretty bad liar,” Morgana huffs, licking a paw before rubbing it over his head. “You lay it on way too heavy.”

“Do I? How would you go about it, then?”

Morgana puffs with self-importance. “Well, first of all, you have to look really cute, and make your eyes big and round and -- ugh, nevermind. That was not my point,” he shakes his head. “What I’m saying is that … there’s no need to act like that anymore. We all know what you’re really like.”

“What am I really like?”

He’s not trying to be condescending, this time. He’s genuinely curious as to how he comes off to others when he isn’t trying to be Tokyo’s beloved golden boy. He has little sense of self beyond that.

“Well,” Morgana trails off in thought, staring out the tiny attic window. “I haven’t known you for long like this. But you’re pretty quiet, serious sort. Kind of like Akira, actually.”

Goro isn’t sure how to respond; not that it matters, because Morgana carries on.

“I think the two of you have more in common than you think, if you’ll put the time into finding out.”

“As lovely as that would be, you’re expecting too much of Akira. There’s no reason for him to bridge the distance between us after what I’ve done.”

Morgana gives him a sort of dry, disbelieving look that he didn’t even think cats could muster. He isn’t sure what Morgana is meaning to imply.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we’ll find out in time,” Morgana certainly isn’t coddling him, but when a yawn overtakes his small body, he still curls onto the foot of the couch; there really isn’t enough room for the two of them, but Goro doesn’t mind. “It’s about time we both went to sleep. You need your rest. Akira’ll be back later.”

Goro opens his mouth to argue, but Morgana pins him with a look and it resigns to a defeated sigh again. “Okay, okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Night.” Morgana chimes, letting his body go limp. He can hear him snoring a few minutes later.

Goro doesn’t find rest as easily. He’s still plagued by the idea that, had things gone right, he could have had the sole satisfaction of ruining Shido -- of killing him, like he really deserved. Because in spite of what they had said, he still thought that death was a greater punishment than guilt. Still, sleep eventually overcomes him.

\--

It’s the first time Loki tries to kill him.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for, when he feels the first bit of pressure on his throat. At first, it isn’t enough to wake him, not until he feels claws wrap fully around his throat, clasping down more and more tightly; and that’s when he wakes up, gasping for air with his only answer being the rasp of his own throat. 

He kicks his leg out in panic. Morgana’s thrusted headfirst onto the floor, staggering up and opening his mouth in protest only for his eyes to go wide. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows that something is definitely wrong, which is enough for him to wake Akira.

“Akira! Akira! Wake up -- something’s wrong with Akechi!”

Akira sits up as suddenly as he’s awoken, still drowsy with sleep but trying to figure out what exactly is going on.

“Akechi? What’s -- what’s happening?”

He tries to answer but he only makes some strangled noise instead. His fingers run down his throat, trying to pull of whatever was so tightly coiled around it, but there’s nothing there. It’s like he’s being choked from the inside.

“Akira! Metaverse, quick!” Morgana runs for the bed and darts back with Akira’s phone in his mouth. He spits it out on the side of the couch.

“W--what?”

“It’s just a hunch, but that’s all we’ve got right now! Hurry!” Morgana hisses.

He hears Akira stammer something else, sees him fumble with his phone. His vision is going black, now; he tries to hold on best he can but he isn’t sure for how much longer that might be. 

It’s moments later, that he finds himself laying on the floor of Mementos. He’s back in his black mask garb, now; it’s an unpleasant reminder, but more jarring is the beast above him, pinning him down, undeniably Loki and undeniably the thing that is trying to strangle him to death.

He feels his vision going black, now. He hears Akira summon Arsene, shout something, and --

And he can breathe again.

With the first breath he takes, he still sounds like he’s absolutely dying, but it brings air back to his starved lungs. The second is the same, but after a minute or two, he’s able to control his breathing again, and his brain’s sole purpose stops being ‘obtain oxygen’, even though his breathing is still quick.

“Zorro!” Morgana calls out. He tells it something or other, and within a few moments the soreness around his neck disappears. 

Akechi stares at himself, at what he’s wearing, and is overcome with the desperate urge to leave as soon as he can.

“Are--”

Akechi raises up a hand to stop him. “Let’s .. get out of here first, please. I don’t want to be here like this.”

“He’s right. It’s unsafe to be here with only three of us and Akechi being like he is. Let’s head back.” Morgana nods.

They all know the truth of the matter, but they don’t press and for that he’s grateful. A few seconds later, and he finds himself back on the couch.

“Are you okay now?” Akira looms over him. Goro turns his back to him, feeling smaller than he would like under his gaze.

“What .. what happened?” He remembers everything, but he isn’t sure if what had just happened was some horrible fever dream or not.

“Your .. other persona. It had itself around your throat,” Morgana explains gingerly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t see why a persona would try to bring harm to its own user.”

Goro puts a hand to his forehead. He’s covered in sweat, and any deduction he could have made is dissolved by his still-lingering panic. “How were you able to send him off so easily? The last time …” He trails off. He doesn’t want to remember it.

“I can’t say for certain, but it’s probably because it’s no longer acting under your resolve. When I first met Haru, she had a persona, but it wasn’t capable of much until she embraced her true motives for rebelling. Sounds like yours is doing the opposite,” Morgana looks satisfied for a moment before his ears droop down again. “... Still doesn’t explain the whole ‘trying to kill you’ thing, though.”

Akira shakes his head and sighs. “I doubt we’re figuring that mystery out today. We’ll have to get a better look at your throat in the morning, but for now I think we’d best call it a night again.”

Morgana nods. “Right. As for Akechi .. I’ll try to stay up as late I can in case something happens.”

“You don’t have to —“

“I know. But this makes the second near death experience you’ve had in a week, so I think it’s best that I keep an eye on you. I wouldn’t have even woke up if I hadn’t fell off the couch.”

Goro sighs. Akira’s lips quirk in amusement, but he thinks better of saying anything and attempts to look more solemn. It takes him a few tries, but he finally gets it and clears his throat.

“He’s right, you know. I’d rather one of us keeps an eye on you in case Loki tries anything else. Morgana can rest all he needs once you’re awake.”

“Mhm,” Morgana lifts his rear, very nearly leaping onto Goro’s chest before thinking better of it and climbing atop him instead. “Back to bed for you too.” He looks pointedly at Akira.

“I am, I am,” Akira snickers, even his laugh sounding weary. “Good night.”

“Sleep tight!” Morgana chirps. He turns to Goro expectantly, and it takes him a few moments to realize why.

“Not tonight.” Goro grumbles into his blanket. Morgana looks disappointed, but doesn’t press on, instead choosing to watch him in silence. His steady focus is a little unnerving, but he’s too tired for it to stop him from falling asleep. 

Goro is in a better state of mind the next morning. He might have thought it all a nightmare, if not for the cat still curled squarely on his chest. He tries meeting Morgana’s eyes, only to find them closed. It must mean Akira’s awake, then; he realizes Akira’s nowhere in the room seconds later. 

With Akira gone and Morgana asleep, going back to sleep sounds like a good option. But he’d rather not, not without someone watching him in case Loki tried something else. So he stares at the ceiling instead, the only sounds being Morgana’s breathing and the muted talk of a customer or two downstairs.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours (probably not). Eventually, though, he hears Akira coming back up the stairs. The creaking of them is loud enough to disturb Morgana, who yawns and stretches before finally clambering off him. He can tell, by the way Morgana seems to go from drowsy to alert in a matter of seconds, that he’s expecting something from Akira, eyes glued to him when he reaches the top of the staircase.

“Well? What’d she say?” 

“What did who say?” Goro raises a brow.

“I went to see Futaba,” Akira elaborates. Goro’s face must express his concern, because Akira raises a hand before he can voice them. “Listen. I’m plenty aware of the .. dilemma, between you two, but — she doesn’t want you dead. I can tell you that.”

Goro knows it’s in his best interest to not say something smart right now, so he doesn’t, though he’s sure his expression still conveys his disbelief.

Akira pauses for a moment too long before continuing; probably preparing himself for a retort that never came, his brain supplies. “I told her about what happened. She … doesn’t seem to have any guesses herself. Said she’d look into it, though.

“Oh,” Goro remarks blandly. “That’s nice of her,” He isn’t sure of what else to say, at first, until he remembers something. “Morgana? Can I ask you something?”

Morgana looks from Akira back to Goro. “Go for it.”

“Last night, I remember you were the one insisting I be taken to Mementos. How’d you know that?”

Akira tilts his head and looks to Morgana; he’s curious too, then.

“I’d been feeling some … dreary presence the entire day. At first I thought Akira might have fed me some bad sushi,” Morgana glares at Akira when he snickers. “... but I had a feeling that wasn’t it. I usually only have intuition that sharp when it comes to the Metaverse, so when I saw you like that, I figured there must be some sort of connection.”

“Huh.” Akira and Goro both remark in the same breath.

“Besides,” Morgana carries on. “When you first woke me up, I already knew you weren’t choking from anything here. Your persona’s presence was … heavier, then? I’m not sure how to describe it, but I didn’t like the feeling. It felt oppressive, then. I could breathe, but even I felt like I was being smothered.”

“That’s oddly poetic of you.” Akira offers.

“That’s .. really not the point,” Morgana sighs. “What do you think, Akechi?”

“Could you feel it too, then?” He points his question at Akira, who only shakes his head.

“Not from what I could remember. I don’t have the sort of sense that Morgana and Futaba do.”

“Morgana shares her ability, then? I was unaware.”

“Oh, hardly,” Morgana sighs. “I wish it were like that. I can just sense things, sometimes. Nothing like Futaba, though.”

Akira kneels to scratch Morgana between the ears, to which he accepts with some reluctance. “Hey. Your ‘sensing things’ saved our hides last night. Don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

Morgana doesn’t look entirely convinced, but it does seem to lift his mood. It’s then Goro realizes he ought to say something.

“Right,” Goro agrees stiffly, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh. Thanks. Both of you -- for everything.” he stammers.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” Akira shrugs. As usual, he’s impossible to read. He’d be frustrated, if he still weren’t so exhausted.

In the end, Goro doesn’t really get it, but he doesn’t push the matter, instead watching Morgana as he leaps onto Akira’s bed.

“Let’s get this place catching a bit more sunlight, and I’ll go ask Futaba what she’s found. Akira can help you with your shoulder, while I’m out doing that. I’m sure we’ll find something out.”

Goro looks at him, sure his eyes conveyed his doubt; things so rarely went well for him, after all. “I hope so.”


	2. but the beast was always here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *updates on april fools because this entire work is a joke*
> 
> https://twitter.com/pharloom

“Psst.”

Morgana’s voice is purposefully low, but it startles Futaba anyway. Her shoulders tense, and she whips her head around, her chair turning with the momentum.

“Huh? Who’s that?” She calls into the darkness, voice wobbly as her hands grasp the arm of her seat.

“Futaba! It’s just me. Morgana.” Morgana hisses hastily, pinning his ears back as she grapples for the foam sword near her desk.

“Oh! Mona,” she drops the handle of the prop, Morgana watching it fall back to the floor with a thud. “What’s up?”

Morgana walks out of the darkness and into the light of Futaba’s monitor; he winces at the intensity, taking a few seconds to adjust his eyes to it. He has to prevent himself from asking how she handles it for such long periods of time. 

Briefly, he worries himself with how Futaba might take it, but if Akira escaped without comment, he doubts he’s at much risk himself. He’s handled worse, but it’s less about that and more about not upsetting Futaba. He doesn’t like when she manhandles him, but he has come to care about her in the same way he does Akira, and he doesn’t think she would benefit from being told things to-the-point like he did with Goro.

“I came to ask about what you and Akira discussed earlier,” Morgana looks from side to side, as if anyone else was capable of deciphering him. “Y’know. About Akechi.”

“Ohhh,” Futaba nods. “Gotcha. What’d you want to know?”

Futaba doesn’t seem to be bothered. He lets out an internal sigh of relief before circling around her, stopping when he reaches the side of the chair that she’s peering out.

“Have you found out anything? He’s been doing okay since we chased Loki off, but I get the feeling we haven’t seen the end of it. I’m worried.”

And that he is. At the time, he’d played it cool for Goro’s sake, but he felt that if they didn’t nip the problem in the bud -- wherever that bud might be -- it’d only get worse, even if there currently wasn’t a sign of it reoccuring. Still, he knew his senses weren’t anywhere near Futaba’s, and if she ended up thinking things were fine, then they probably would be.

“Yeah, actually.” Futaba hums, a glint in her eye.

Morgana’s ears swivel. “C’mon, then. Let’s hear it.”

“Well,” Futaba taps her finger against her chin, turning to display a document on her computer. “I found some .. studies.”

“By who?”

“The Kirijo Group.”

\--

“Okay, give me your arm. Easy now -- don’t want you to stretch it out too quickly again.”

Akira is gentle with him, but it feels less intimate and more like a doctor treating their patient. Physical, but ultimately impersonal. It’s better this way, he thinks.

Goro wonders, through the sting of the gel being applied to his wound, if they’re even friends. Acquaintances, maybe. ‘Friends’ was something people could call each other when they didn’t have attempted murder in their history, he felt. He wonders if they could ever truly be friends, then.

It’s not really a healthy conversation to be having with himself, but it distracted himself from the pain in his shoulder well enough. The punkish doctor that had first seen Goro might be a better fit for this, but he had enough to worry about without paparazzi knowing of his whereabouts; going to the bathhouse was as big of a risk as he was willing to take.

“How’s it feel?” Akira’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Oh -- not the worst. It’s not as bad as when you first applied it, at least.” He still winces when another lather of it is applied.

“That’s good,” Akira moves his hand and reaches for the bandages. “Tae told me that keeping the wound moist will make it easier for the stitches to be removed, too. We can probably do that soon.”

As if that wasn’t a painful thought in of itself. Goro nods through gritted teeth, the pain only ebbing once the bandages are coiled snug around his shoulder. “At least it’s healing properly.” He shrugs as best his condition allows, slowly lifts his arms up so Akira can help him get his shirt back on.

“Right.” Akira answers, blandly, as he moves away from the couch Goro’s been contained to for the past week. There’s a thick silence between them, only broken by the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. He’d think it was Morgana, if the noise didn’t have so much weight.

Akira walks to the edge of the staircase, only sparing a glance downward before returning his gaze to Goro. “It’s just Futaba and Mona.” he explains.

Goro’s somewhat relieved they aren’t experiencing a break-in, but seeing Futaba for the first time after the incident is a situation he is nowhere near prepared for. Akira, at the very least, seems to understand this, and shoots him a sympathetic look.

Eventually, the footsteps stop. He turns his head, expecting to see Futaba at the top, only to find she’s came to a near stop and is more shuffling up the stairs than walking.

He blinks once, twice, before his confused stare turns to Akira. Akira answers him with some vague hand gesture he takes a few steps down the stairs. He doesn’t hear what they say -- they’re whispering -- but eventually all three of them make it to the top, Futaba clinging to Akira’s arm.

Morgana is the last to make it to the top; he announces his presence with a long, frazzled sigh, like getting Futaba here had been a miracle in of itself.

“Futaba?” Morgana prompts, butting his head against her calf. “Are you going to …?”

“Y-yeah,” she mumbles, slowly creeping out from behind Akira’s shadow. “Just gimme a second.”

Goro isn’t sure if speaking would make things better or worse, so instead he stays put, watching as Akira forcibly peels himself off of Futaba. She sucks in a breath, Akira placing a hand on her shoulder, and Goro feels worse by the second, to the point where he finally musters the courage to speak. 

“If you’d rather not speak to me, Morgana can relay the message --”

She squeaks indignantly, finally taking a full step away from Akira.

“N-no! I’m ready now,” she puts her hands to her sides, standing rigid. “First of all -- you suck.”

“Futaba --” Akira butts in, furrowing his brows. Goro raises a hand.

“It’s okay. Just .. let her talk.” Goro insists. It’s good to go ahead and get this out of the air, he thinks, so he knows exactly how she feels about him, and what terms he could expect to be on with her.

Futaba looks like she hadn’t thought of what else to say beyond the first insult. “But uh. I don’t hate you, so -- that’s, that’s why I’m here to talk to you. You’re bad, but not I-want-you-dead levels of bad.”

He can hear Akira trying not to laugh in the background. Asshole.

But it’s fair, he supposes. Being able to coexist with Futaba, with her not wanting to actively murder him, was probably the best relationship he could hope to have with her. 

He wonders, then, if he could ever have a substantial relationship with someone, or if ‘mutual understanding’ would be the peak of his interactions. He doesn’t think himself very likeable, after what’s been done. Ignoring the whole ‘multiple murders’ thing — that’s unlikely for even the most saintly among them. Impossible, even.

“But uhm,” she scrapes the sole of her shoe against the floor. “What I came here to say was that, I looked into what happened. And I found something, about a … Kirijo Group.”

Akira raises a brow. “Isn’t that just a trading company?”

Futaba nods. “Yeah. They’re pretty low profile now, but back when we were all kids, apparently they were involved in all sorts of seedy things.”

“Seedy things?” Goro repeats.

“Yep. It turns out, there were persona users before us; this group exploited that and rounded up some street kids. They forced them to awaken their personas — and apparently, having your persona dragged out of you means it’ll try to kill you. Only drugs could suppress them, and even that had lethal side effects.”

“Did .. any of them survive?” Goro’s voice is low, disbelieving. He shouldn’t be surprised, not when he’d seen so many turn a blind eye to his own suffering; but still, outrage blooms deep in his chest.

“I … I don’t think so. I’m sorry.” Futaba whispers. It’s only when he meets her wide eyes does he realize she’s expecting him to lash out. He takes a breath, leans back into the couch, and loosens his grip on the arm of it.

“It’s not your fault. I appreciate the information.”

Futaba perks up and gives him a half smile. He nearly returns it, until Morgana commands his attention.

“While that does give us another instance of a persona attempting to harm its host, the situations aren’t exactly similar. Pretty sure Akechi here summoned his naturally.”

They all turn to him with curious faces; waiting for confirmation, he realizes a few seconds later.

“I didn’t know much of anything about the Metaverse when Loki first accompanied me — let alone something of that caliber,” Goro shakes his head. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to connect the dots here until we realize exactly what a persona would have to gain from mutilating its bearer.”

“Futaba?” Akira turns to her. Her brows raise in kind. “Did you read anything about what their persona’s end goal might have been?”

“Oh!” She claps her hands together, triumph flashing in her eyes. “I knew I was forgetting something. So, in a lot of these cases, the personas ended up possessing the bodies of their users, and they turned into shadows. Physically or only mentally, I’m not sure, but maybe that’s what Loki is trying to do? Possess you?”

“Maybe?” Goro sighs, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure why it would, but it’s a possibility.”

Futaba groans, defeated. “I’ll try digging up some more info, but uh. Thanks for hearing me out.”

Goro isn’t sure why she’s the one thanking him rather than the reverse, but he nods nonetheless.

“I’ll go with her for now, in case she digs up anything else interesting. I’ll see you two later.” Morgana mews, ducking under Futaba’s hands as she tries to scoop him up and darting down the stairs.

“W-wait, Mona! You’re supposed to go with me, not after me!” Futaba calls, chasing after him. Goro’s amused to the point that he doesn’t realize they’re alone again until he hears the sharp clang of the door from downstairs.

“Uh.” Akira and Goro state in unison. They’re both idiots, Goro laments.

“What’d you think about all that?” Akira asks in his best attempt at conversation.

“It was certainly …” Goro stumbles in his attempt at finding an appropriate adjective. “Something?”

“Depressing.” Akira offers. Goro stops a dry laugh from coming out mouth, and instead smiles grimly.

“I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. But I just — I hate it. If a global company can keep their secrets so well-hidden, what else is happening under our noses? Righting injustice is always a matter of cure rather than prevention, and none of us have the power to stop it entirely. We just fix things as they appear, and hope the victim isn’t irreparably broken. It’s all we can do.”

Akira stares out the window, and lets out a deep, tired sigh before he turns to Goro.

“I won’t say you’re wrong, but. I can’t agree with you aloud. There’s too much on the line for me to lose faith in myself now.”

Goro wishes he’d worded himself more delicately. It feels like, since arriving here, all his social skills had fallen to the wayside. It might be for the better; he’s so, so tired of performing. But he really didn’t want Akira thinking everything he’d done was moot.

“I’m not saying your actions aren’t without value. I just wish more could be done. You’ve done a lot for the people around you,” he tries to be more matter-of-fact, but his next words still feel uncomfortably sappy. “For me, especially. I’d be dead otherwise.”

Akira’s face brightens, if by a little. “I’m just trying to do my best.”

Goro doesn’t remember Akira being this modest. He’s always thought of him as the opposite, actually. Flagrant, cocky, and never denying a chance to show off, even outside the Metaverse.

Was that just a facade, then? Or was this just an exception to the rule? 

“But, uh,” Akira stammers, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. “Speaking of which, I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

Goro isn’t sure what to say. It’s the first time any of them had acknowledged what had happened to him beyond the incident in the engine room. He isn’t sure how to talk about it.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know if Akira means it genuinely, or if he’s just being sympathetic because he feels obligated. It felt out of nowhere, given the distance kept between them, and the idea of Akira coddling him so he can feel good about himself leaves a nasty taste in his mouth.

But Akira — Akira had offered him his space, helped him with his shoulder. Surely, he felt, at the very least, a bare-minimum of concern for him. The reminder soothes the edge away.

He meets Akira’s eyes, and realizes he’s waiting for some sort of acknowledgement. He clears his throat, but it’s less for his body and more so he has a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I wouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, his even tone betraying how bitter he’s always been over the hand he was dealt. “I made a choice.”

Even Goro, who had once been so eager to dismiss himself as evil and unsalvageable because it stopped himself from thinking, knew there was more to it than that. But he doesn’t think he’s ready to convey that to Akira yet, so he shrugs him off. 

It’ll be a long time before he can expose himself like that, and he’s not even sure if he’ll ever reach that ground with Akira.

Akira stares at him, like he’s thinking of saying more, until he slowly blinks and changes his expression back to something unreadable.

“I guess so.” He shrugs and turns away.

They don’t acknowledge each other for however long they’re left alone.

—

By the time Morgana returns, Goro is asleep.

Here, he’s a child again, so much smaller than the faceless figures that surround him. They loom above him like trees, and if he were lucid, he would have realized it were a dream. He’s standing across an open field, littered with —

— tombstones, he realizes. His mind feeds him the rest of the situation, tells him it’s his mother’s funeral. The curiosity he feels immediately turns to dread, it laying heavy in his stomach.

Goro turns, the casket, and the hole it’s suspended above, materializing out of nothing as his perspective changes.

He reaches out, pressing his head hard against the glossy finish. His eyes grow wet. 

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he steps away. He expects to find sympathy in the figure’s glowing eyes, but the severity in its gaze makes him feel all the smaller.

“This is your fault, you know.” It hisses, voice garbled.

Goro opens his mouth to disagree, remorse and anger both washing over him. But nothing comes out his mouth, rather that be the limitations of his dream or his innermost voice agreeing with the monster.

No matter how many times he tries speaking out, he remains silent, and with each attempt another silhouette looms over him. 

“Don’t you want to avenge her?”

Another voice sneers out, but unlike the others, it’s clear, and vaguely familiar. It sounds like it’s coming from the sky, almost. 

The entire scene dissolves, and he feels himself come back into his current body, floating among the darkness.

“I — of course. That’s what I’m trying to do.” 

“Are you sure? You’ve given up so easily.”

It’s then Goro realizes what he’s referring to, and he both shudders and bristles with one shake of his shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Goro hisses, his voice growing louder no matter how stupid he feels arguing with the voice in his head. “I’ve just found a better way. For my own sake.”

“Yet you’ll still allow him the luxury of living? She was never given that option —“

“She chose that for herself!” He shouts into the black, hands trembling. Guilt hits him like a train, but he doesn’t give himself the chance to overly lament it. “It might have started for her, but now —- he’s put me through so much. Now it’s for my sake.”

The voice stops. He feels the pressure in the air; at first, he thinks it’s only his mood, until the weight grows and grows, to the point he feels like he might be suffocating.

Then he wakes up, and realizes he’s actually suffocating.

He sees Morgana by his feet and — he wishes there was another way to go about this — kicks him  
off the couch again.

Morgana faceplants into the floor, stumbling up and rubbing his head. He shoots daggers at Goro, before he realizes the situation he’s in and the venom in his eyes vanishes.

“Ah-kira!” he half shouts, half yawns. “Akechi’s choking again!”

Goro would laugh about the addition of ‘again’, if not for closing of his throat and the ensuing panic.

Akira stumbles awake, wordlessly gripping his phone and skimming his fingers across the screen. It takes a few seconds for him to find himself in the Metaverse again.

And — ah, yes. There’s Loki, as hellbent on murdering him as he was the first time around. How romantic. 

Even now, he’s nowhere near strong enough to pry Loki off himself. He still hates the feeling; it’s like drowning, it burns his lungs, it makes his chest sore. He can distantly hear Akira summoning Arsene.

It takes a few seconds, but something from Arsene strikes Loki, sending him disappearing back to the darkness. Morgana heals him again, but his throat — his entire body — still aches.

Goro sits up and looks down at himself, realizing the outfit he’s in. His fingers dig into his thigh; he feels cold, alone, in spite of the two very real people a few away.

“Let’s get back.” Goro whispers, voice rough. Akira and Morgana silently comply.

When they return, Goro is staring at the floor, and Akira and Morgana are starting at him. 

“Uh,” Morgana starts, trying to break the silence. “Did it leave any lasting damage?”

“No. I’m fine now,” Goro shakes his head. “I’m sorry for kicking you off the couch again.”

“It’s okay. We … might need to find something you can use to wake us up if it happens again, though.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Akechi,” Akira speaks up, stepping out the darkness. “I’ll try checking with Futaba again tomorrow. And, there’s … something else we need to talk about in the morning, too.”

“Oh.” Morgana’s expression turns pensive.

It’s ominous enough to concern him, but he’s too tired to sink his teeth into that tonight, not when there’s a couch promising him more rest; minus the torment, he hopes.

—

Everyone else is up by the time Goro wakes up. Akira is sitting upright in his bed, invested in some handheld game device, Morgana nestled in the crater made by his criss-crossed legs.

He watches them through half-lidded eyes, not really recognizing he’s even staring until Morgana catches his gaze and perks up.

“Psst, Akira. He’s awake.”

Akira slowly peels his eyes from his game, and sticks them to Goro. Goro rubs his own.

“You can … keep on with what you’re doing. I don’t have a shortage of time.”

Akira moves Morgana out his lap and stands up. “No, uh. This is important, I think.”

“You think?” Goro teases.

Akira furrows his brows.

“I’ll go check in on Futaba.” Morgana adds hastily, scampering down the stairs.

They stare at each other for a few silent moments, until Akira sighs and runs a hand through his hair

“So. Your situation .. delayed things.”

“Things?” Goro mocks.

“You know what I mean. Don’t be coy.” He snaps, but the rise in his voice makes it sound like a bitten-back laugh.

“But about that,” Akira’s voice goes quiet again. “We’ll do it soon.”

There’s a hesitant tone in Akira’s voice that immediately makes him fear the worst.

“Don’t tell me you’re expecting me to stay —“ Goro starts.

“No, no,” Akira butts in hastily . “I couldn’t. You might want to try stretching your arm out a bit though, so you won’t overextend it when the day comes. That’s not what I was going to talk about, though.”

Goro folds his hands in his lap, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m less worried about your arm than I am Loki. It’s weak now, but I don’t want unknown variables.”

“Oh. I’m always in your way, aren’t I?”

It sounds like a dig for pity, Goro realizes seconds too late. He scrambles to retract his statement, but Akira speaks again before he can.

“No. It’s not like that,” Akira shakes his head, avoiding Goro’s eyes. “This isn’t something you can control.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

Akira sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “That isn’t— ugh. Can I put it differently?”

Goro doesn’t think there’s a different way to describe it, but he nods anyway. “Go ahead.”

“You are troublesome,” Akira admits. “We’ve had to change plans three times to account for you.”

“Um,” Goro isn’t sure where Akira’s going with this. “Sorry, then?” he offers, brow raised.

Akira seems to get how he comes off, running a hand through his hair. “But, that’s okay! You don’t need to worry about it. It’s fine.”

“So you’re saying that I cause you problems, but I shouldn’t care?” Goro pins Akira beneath his glare. “I’m not that insensitive. It might've been that way before, but—”

“No, that’s not what I—“

Akira shuts up when he hears the front door jingle. 

“Guys! I’m home!” Morgana mews loudly from the staircase, reaching the top with an impressive speed. “What’re you two up to?”

“Nothing important.” Goro answers briskly. 

Morgana shoots Akira a look that screams ‘What did you do this time?’. In spite of his mood, Goro bites back a laugh.

“Well, anyway. No new information from Futaba,” Morgana looks back to Akira. “Well? Did you tell him?”

Akira coughs into his sleeve. “Halfway?” he shrugs.

Morgana stares, unimpressed. “Do you want me to tell him?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Akira continues, avoiding eye contact with Goro. “Uh. Akechi, just … don’t push yourself too hard. And, don’t kill try anything when we’ve got him down. Please.”

He really wants to. He still really, really wants to. For so long, he’d thought killing him was the only way. It was hard to undo the foundation he’d invested so much of his life into. He tried to tell himself this was the better way, as they had all told him, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s really any ‘better’. Definitely not as satisfying.

Goro reminds himself, firmly, that’s it’s not about satisfaction. But if it’s not about satisfaction, and not about being the better person, then what? What’s the point?

“Akechi?”

Morgana’s voice makes him realize he’s staring into space.

“O-oh. I’m sorry,” he stammers, brushing a hair from his face. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Morgana looks entirely unconvinced, but he doesn’t call Goro out on it. 

“I can imagine,” he rolls his shoulders instead. “You got the gist of what Akira is saying, then?”

Goro nods.

“I wanted to talk about something else, then,” Morgana announces, looking between the two of them. “I think Akechi could get some fresh air.”

Goro opens his mouth immediately. Morgana raises a paw to cut him short.

“Wait, wait,” he chides. “I’m not saying we drag you out to Shibuya. A short walk would be good for you. Maybe even just stay downstairs for a bit. The most you’ve done is scamper to the bathhouse, and you’ve barely talked to Boss.”

He isn’t sure when he’ll be prepared for that encounter. Futaba didn’t outright hate him, but her father — he might be a different story.

“He’s going to Tameki’s in the morning for the stitches.” Akira offers.

“Mm, I guess that’ll do for now.” Morgana nods.

Goro shoots Akira a grateful look. He half-smiles, bringing his arms around his back and stretching.

“By the way, there’s a ringing bell of Sojiro’s out in the kitchen. You can use that now, instead of flinging Mona off the bed.”

“I never flung him,” Goro huffs. “But are you sure he won’t miss it?”

Akira shrugs. “A bird told me that it was a gift from an old friend when he opened shop, but that he’d kill over before he answered to a bell. Just don’t break it and you’ll be fine.”

“Hm. Okay, then. Thank you.”

It’s funny, how he can go from being irritated with Akira to being in somewhat of a good mood with him in a matter of minutes.

It’s probably because Morgana’s here now, Goro belatedly realizes. He was a good buffer between the two, kept either from saying anything too stupid. 

Morgana speaks again. “And after all this is said and done, I’d say we’re due for a hearty celebration, huh?”

They both softly laugh, as tired as they are humored, and agree.

The three of them talk for a while after. Not about anything important, but that’s fine. He prefers it, actually. It’s mundane, but in a nice way. Cozy, as sappy as the word is.

Goro looks between them, and again wonders if they could have been friends in different circumstances.

Morgana is more or less friendly, but he couldn’t tell with Akira. He’d be amiable some time, then distant the next; or tripping over his own words, in the case of whatever he was trying to say earlier. He should probably give him another chance to explain himself with that. It’d thrown him off in the moment, but he thinks Akira was trying to convey something other than the way he came off. He’ll try convincing him to get it off his chest again next time they’re alone. It’s the least he can do.

Goro eventually lets out a yawn, only half-stopping it from coming out. 

“Are you tired?” Akira raises a brow.

“I suppose,” he admits. His stamina still isn’t the best, given his injury. “But it’s okay. I don’t think I need to sleep right now anyway.”

Akira and Morgana both look at him, perplexed, but neither press.

“Well… alright,” Morgana sighs. “Just make sure you get enough rest when you do sleep. I know it isn’t easy for you, but in the next few days you’ll really need your strength, okay?”

Goro looks downward. “I’ll try my best. I wouldn’t want to slow anyone down.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Akira comments.

There’s the idea Akira was talking about earlier. He’s more receptive now, but he can’t have an answer for him when he’d only heard half the sentiment before cutting Akira off. He’d worded it badly, but Goro’s starting to think immediately assuming the worst hadn’t been the best idea.

But for now, he shrugs. “If you say so.”

—-

They lull about the rest of the day. He thinks all three of them needed it. Between Akira’s usual juggling, Morgana’s back-and-forths with Futaba, and Goro’s everything, it was nice to have some time off, if only for a few hours.

Akira, surprisingly, is the first to realize how late it is.

“God — how long have we been awake?” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “I’m surprised you didn’t point it out.” He stares pointedly at Morgana.

“I only have four toes on each of my front paws, so I can’t count past eight.” He grins. 

Goro snickers. Akira sighs, more fondly than exasperated.

“Anyway, we should get to sleep. Wouldn’t want Takemi chewing us out for being late.”

It’s a motive he can’t argue with. He’s not looking forward to it — he’s heard it’s relatively painless, but certainly there’s exceptions — but he’d also never liked the feeling of his skin being ‘sewn up’, so he’d rather it get taken care of now more than later.

They settle everything up for the night, Akira goes downstairs to make sure everything’s locked up, and the lights are put out.

Morgana chooses Akira’s bed for the first time in a while, curling himself in the empty space between Akira and the wall. 

It’s stupid, but Goro finds himself missing the weight beside him. 

His eyes drift to the bell. He feels more like a patient than ever did his first night.

Goro tries his best to sleep, but under the looming threat of being choked, it’s hard. He isn’t sure for how long he tries, but nothing does him any good. Any time he drifts the slightest bit off, he remembers the feeling of Loki’s claws around his throat and finds himself fully awake again. 

He gives up by the fifth time. He could browse his phone, but it’d give himself away, and he’d rather not worry the two of them more than they already are. He hopes he can half-function by morning.

The possibility of death itself isn’t what bothers him. Not seeing his end goal, though — that’s what keeps him awake. He’d been prepared to die before, but the circumstances were vastly different. Now, it feels like he can (mostly) achieve what he’d set out to do. He can’t risk that.

He stares at the ceiling, listening to the rise and fall of his own breathing; last night’s nightmare, of all things, flashes in his mind, but he immediately smothers the memory back down. He isn’t sure how much time is killed, but a while passes and the sun’s rising.


End file.
